


flightless bird (american mouth)

by nebulera



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Dancing, M/M, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 14:36:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15196895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nebulera/pseuds/nebulera
Summary: Captain America is asking him for a dance at the end of the world, and Tony shrugs because why not.





	flightless bird (american mouth)

**Author's Note:**

> inconveniently gets into popular mcu ship six years late

Tony wipes at his eyes before throwing off the covers with a huff and sitting on the edge of the bed. He hasn’t gotten a single moment of shut-eye since he’d come up here a few hours ago after being in his workshop the whole night, half tinkering and half studying. It turns out that working tirelessly with Scott Lang to figure out quantum physics that shouldn’t even exist, that probably died hopelessly with Hank Pym, that the two of them barely understood, along with the rest of humanity, did not wear him out, and only made him wish he were anywhere else. But there were only so many places he could go after the world ended. Bed it was then.

 

Only he couldn’t sleep and didn’t see the point because it was nearing five in the morning, the day was just getting started, he might as well just get up. Not to go down to the workshop, simply because Lang was probably still there dead to the world and drooling onto his notes, and Tony has seen better things in the morning.

 

“Friday, start the coffee maker downstairs, will you?” Tony asks once he stands and crosses the room to grab a pair of loose-fitting pants, and then a hoodie to put over his tank top without even thinking about it.

 

As he’s walking down to the stairwell, Friday offers to turn up the heat at the notice of him shaking. “No, don’t worry about it,” he tells her because this is a chill nothing can shake. The compound’s halls and common-rooms are notably empty at this time, but regardless of the hour, it was still void of any warmth from people, and Tony couldn’t blame any of them for it. They’d all seen what happened first-hand, they weren’t exactly up for small-talk. Tony could understand. He saw it up close, too.

 

Arriving back home to see everyone in disarray was suspected. Tony was still breaking down inside thinking about Peter, but he couldn’t help to feel just a little joy to see that Rhodey and Pepper had survived. Even when broken-up he worried for Pepper and vice-versa, and he let her sob and clutch him for dear-life when she saw him for the first time since the few weeks he’d been off-world. Rhodey practically did the same thing, and Tony saw the same light in his eyes that he did when he rescued him in the middle of Afghanistan. Only this time, there was barely a home to go back to.

 

He didn’t realize he was happy to see Steve until he did and his breath caught in his throat. Nebula had him leaning against her as they set foot onto the Earth’s soil and Steve was there, running from the compound to meet him and Tony almost forgot the last two years of their lives because seeing those familiar baby blues light up after thinking he never would again made his chest ache. _“Tony,”_ Steve had said, his voice doing silly thing to Tony’s insides. His eyes only looked to Nebula briefly before he realized why Tony was using her as support and he reached out to wrap an arm around Tony’s waist. The two carried him up the hill from there.

 

 _“You grew a beard,”_ were the first words he’d spoken to Steve in two years, and Tony savored the other man’s smile.

 

He’d seen rather than heard who they’d lost. Natasha was there, along with Bruce, Thor, Clint, and Scott Lang. They lost Wanda, Vision, T’Challa, Wilson. It was deathly quiet and Tony knew by the way Steve kept his eyes down and arms crossed unsteady across his chest that Barnes was gone too. Clint’s entire family was wiped out and Lang lost his daughter. Tony had to tell them about Strange. About Peter. It hurt to utter his name, to push aside his denial and say it out loud.

 

Later, after Tony had his injuries checked and tended to, Steve simply pulled him aside.

 

_“Tony. I just want you to know that I’m sorry. About everything.”_

 

It seemed almost silly, what had happened between them and what was happening now, but it didn’t mend the bruises. _“I know, Cap,”_ he said sincerely. _“I’m sorry, too.”_

 

Nothing fixed the fragments left within the Avengers, but they stuck together for each other’s sake.

 

He’s shouldering the weight of _fixing_ this, of bringing them back, or at the very least ending Thanos’ hold of the stones. Strange didn’t spare his life for nothing, he knows that. He works day and night trying to reverse what happened, but Tony can’t help but think of Peter weeping and disappearing right from his grasp, and wishing it was himself instead. God. He should have gone that day with everyone else.

 

By the time he reaches the common floor he’s greeted by nobody because it _is_ really early and on the way to the kitchen, the open balcony doors catch Tony’s eye. He looks and sees Steve with his back to him, hunched over the table while quietly drawing something in his sketchbook and Tony can hear faint music playing from the Steve’s new phone. Tony hums at the sight and pours two cups of coffee.

 

Steve’s head turns at the sound of footsteps approaching and he greets Tony with a half smile and confused look. “Tony…?”

 

“Morning,” Tony replies casually, setting the other mug down on the table within Steve’s reach. He thanks him, takes a sip.

 

“You’re up early,” Steve says.

 

“So are you.” He takes the chair opposite of Steve. “Couldn’t go back to sleep or something?”

 

“I tried,” Steve says with a sigh, shakes his head. “Too wired. So I just came out here.”

 

Tony tunes into the music quietly playing on the table, something folky, something Tony wouldn’t listen to ever and lets his eyes drop to the sketchbook on the coffee-table. It was a grayscale version of the horizon in the distance, along with the trees that surrounded the compound. It was simple and nice, and Tony could see where Steve’s fingerprints pressed against the paper and where he’d smeared the charcoal for shading.

 

“What about you?” Steve asked.

 

“I stayed up with Lang in the workshop until a couple hours ago. The guy’s nonstop at trying to figure out what Pym was discovering before it happened.” He keeps it more vague than The Snap. “I tried to get some sleep. He can be a real piece of work, but I can’t say I blame him. He lost his kid.”

 

Steve’s eyes drop. “You… how have you been holding up?”

 

“Me?” Other than he can’t stop rewinding the event over and over again in his brain, can’t block out the sound of Peter crying, or the way he’d gripped him, and can’t stop thinking about how Peter faded into ash in his arms and how Tony couldn’t tell his Aunt May because she’d been wiped out too, or the fact that Tony’s been walking around with a hole in his chest that he’d trade in for the arc reactor any day, or that nothing feels good anymore, he’s… “Fine.”

 

Steve just looks at him.

 

“Okay, not fine. But I don’t think anyone is.”

 

“Of course no one is, Tony. We all lost somebody.”

 

 _Barnes,_ Tony thinks, but doesn’t say anything. He looks away from Steve, at the orange sun peaking over the trees.

 

“You know,” Steve begins. “The first day after it happened, everything was so hectic and quiet at the same time, with people mourning or just being plain confused. No one… no one knew what to do.” He sighs. “I was scared. We’d lost so many good people. And I thought we’d lost you, too. All I could think about was you.”

 

Tony’s chest aches. “Oh, Capsicle, you know you make my heart swoon.”

 

Steve huffs a laugh and dips his head. “I missed you, Tony.”

 

Tony lets his face crumble for a second because Steve isn’t looking. Despite all the fights and confusion and misunderstandings, Tony tells the truth. “I missed you too, Cap.”

 

He gets up and walks to rest his elbows on the stone ledge of the balcony, let’s the summer breeze blow past his cheeks and hair. A comfortable silence passes over them as Tony sips his coffee and Steve continues to draw behind him. One song fades into the next as the sun rises.

 

“I don’t know how we’re gonna make it,” Tony says quietly. Not quietly enough, because Steve’s pencil stops completely and Tony knows he’s listening. Tony sighs heavily. “I know I need to keep my mind afloat. I’m not giving up. I won’t until we figure this out. We’ve been working at this for weeks but… it’s too much sometimes. I feel like all this pressure is on my shoulders because a wizard who saw the future traded the entire universe to save _me_.” He turns his head to look at Steve, who’s watching him with careful eyes. Tony shakes his head. “I sure wasn’t worth it.”

 

“Tony—”

 

“No, look, I know what you’re gonna say.” Tony puts his mug down on the table and goes back to lean against the stone ledge. “I know I need to suck it up. Obviously I’m still here for a reason.”

 

Steve shakes his head, amused. “Glad you figured that out on your own. I was gonna say, though, I think you need a break.”

 

“A break? If you couldn’t tell, we’re kinda confined to this mansion.”

 

“I meant that you need to get your mind loose of things. You’re stressed. I can see it in your shoulders and the way you carry yourself. And you haven’t slept in days.”

 

Tony shrugs. “Side effects of trying to save the world.” He turns his back to Steve again, stares over the horizon.

 

A minute passes as a song fades into another and Tony listens as Steve raises the volume of the music on his phone. He hears shuffling and then Steve is standing next to him, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. “C’mon,” he says. He reaches down, takes Tony’s hand.

 

Tony doesn’t ask what he’s trying to do. He puts it together perfectly when Steve walks them both towards the middle of the deck and carefully takes Tony’s other hand. The music is quiet and gentle. Steve’s looking at him questioningly, like this might be overstepping and he wants Tony’s _okay._ Tony thinks, Captain America is asking him for a dance at the end of the world, and Tony shrugs because why not.

 

Steve swings their arms back and forth together to the beat. It’s slow and sweet and it makes Tony smile only a bit. Steve’s lips turn upwards and he moves their feet across the floor, their arms outstretched between them, and then he lifts one of their joint hands above Tony to twirl him around. And then he does the same to Steve. They laugh, smiles growing.

 

They dance lazily like this, and it’s almost childish to Tony, the way they’re moving to the music, almost the opposite of slow dancing but nothing extreme. But it’s nice and he can’t explain it. At some point their chests are almost pressed together, moving their feet across the floor in a strange manner but Steve is laughing and the sound is breathtaking to his ears. Their clasped hands feels good, and one of Steve’s hands finding its way to Tony’s back feels good. Their fingers twine together.

 

One of their twirls ends with Tony sighing and just letting himself press into Steve’s torso, his cheek resting against his collarbone, their hands still together. Steve rests his chin on Tony’s opposite shoulder as they move slowly together, swaying back and forth as the song builds. Steve’s hand on Tony’s back is safe, protective. Tony reaches up with his free hand to curl his fingers into Steve’s shoulder.

 

Seconds pass in what feels like forever when Tony feels the press of soft lips against his hair.

 

Tony leans back, not to tear himself away from Steve, but just to look up at him, studying the way the orange glow of the sun masks his face. The other man doesn’t say anything, waits for Tony to speak or react, but he doesn’t. Tony just looks at him, eyelids heavy, and carefully runs his hand over Steve’s upper arm. He almost unconsciously tilts his head and leans up, waiting. The music plays ceaselessly.

 

Steve lets out a light breath, moves his hand from Tony’s to reach up and cup the back of his neck, his thumb ghosting over his cheek. And then he’s leaning in and kissing Tony.

 

The press of Steve’s lips against his is careful and undaring, but filled completely with the passion of lost time. All those years spent fighting, arguing, not speaking felt distant to him. The feeling of Steve’s beard against his own is scratchy and welcoming. He wants to feel more, wants to taste more. Steve’s hands on him feel safe, and Tony’s not _scared._ It’s the best thing he’s felt in months.

 

Steve breaks away, looks at him like he’s the only thing in the universe. _“_ Tony,” he breathes with a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He leans in to press their foreheads together, brings his other hand up to cup the other half of Tony’s face as he stares down at him. “I’ve wanted to do that since…”

 

Tony reaches up to run his fingers past Steve’s face and into his hair. “It’s about time, soldier.”

 

A beat passes. Steve's fingers are gentle at his cheek. “Are we too late?” he whispers. 

 

Tony thinks sadly that they should have, sooner. Maybe things could have been prevented. Maybe they wouldn’t have lost so much time. But he meets Steve’s eyes and his heart melts. Steve’s body is warm against his, and Tony realizes hasn’t shaken since he’d entered the balcony. He never wants to let this go. He thinks, he wants to keep things like this for as long as he can.

 

The song ends, fades into the next.

 

“No,” Tony says, “we’re not,” and he pulls Steve back down.

 

**Author's Note:**

> the song they dance to is the title of the fic: [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vdib4r6cne8)
> 
> yay or nay


End file.
